Snape's Punishment
by Gryngolet
Summary: What might have happened if Professor Snape had recognized the Marauder's Map when he caught Harry coming back from Hogsmeade in the Prisoner of Azkaban? Contains disciplinary spanking of a teen by an adult authority figure. No slash.


_No major changes, just cleaning up some typos and missing words and errors, and hopefully cutting down on some self-indulgent phrasing, though I don't promise not to make that worse. Thanks to all who read and especially those who reviewed and pointed out errors. I'm also changing rhe rating from K+ to T, not really because of content but because of the - ahem- impurity of my motives in writing this story. Makes me feel icky to think of kids reading it. And I vastly understimated the size of the HP fandom- this has gotten more than 500 views in the 19 hours it's been up. Should also point out that though I will fix errors as much as I can, I know the characters are not acting in a striclty canon way. Harry is soggier and more naive than canon Harry, and Snape is probably harsher. I read the books once as they came out, and am in the process of my first reread (actually listening to the audibooks) but I'm only in Goblet of Fire and though I remember Snape is redeemed at the end, I don't recall the details or whether we ever get any scenes from Snape's POV. I heard the scene where Snape caught Harry, and my mind instantly went to the place my mind always goes- there should have been a spanking there_.

Severus Snape's long, sallow face was furious. "Your head isn't allowed in Hogsmeade, Potter. No part of your body has permission to go to Hogsmeade."

Harry fought hard to keep his expression serene, not knowing how transparent he was to the potions master. He wasn't going to admit anything. Snape had no proof . . . yet. "I was in Gryffindor tower all night, doing homework," he lied virtuously.

"And I am certain many of your classmates can vouch for your wherabouts? No?" Harry had opened his mouth to say a name, any name, but he closed it again. He wouldn't implicate anyone else by asking them to lie for him.

Snape advanced on the frightened boy, his black robes billowing about him, and grasped Harry tightly by the wrist. "Good choice not to lie to me again, Potter. To my office." He set a furious pace, dragging the boy behind him through the halls and down the several flights of stairs to the dungeons of Hogwarts, and then through a creaky door to his office. It was furnished in a surprisingly warm and comfortable way, considering to whom it belonged, with wood paneling and a comfortable looking wing-backed chair in front of the fire that Snape lit with a muttered "Incendio!" It was to one of the chairs in front of the large mahogany desk that Harry was led now, though Snape did not invite him to sit and Harry did not dare do so unbidden.

Snape went around behind the desk and regarded him coldly, though Harry could see hints of the smirk of triumph the man was suppressing. "Now, turn out your pockets. "

Harry's heart sank. Why hadn't he hidden the map and the bag of tricks from Zonko's at the same time as the invisibility cloak? He hesitated, frantically looking for a way out of this.

Snape leaned towards hi,m, placing his hands on the desk and bringing his face within a foot of Harry's. He spoke quite quietly, which made his words all the more menacing. "Turn. Out. Your. Pockets. Do it now, Potter, or I will do it for you." He smiled unpleasantly. "I can assure you, you won't enjoy it."

There was nothing Harry could do. His hands shook as he removed the bag and the map and placed them on the desk. Snape picked up the bag and crooked an eyebrow at Harry in inquiry.

"Ron gave me those! He got them the last time he was in Hogsmeade. A long, long time ago!" Harry said in a high, too fast voice.

"And you've been carrying them with you all this time? How very touching, Potter." Next he picked up the map. "And I suppose this is also a treasured gift from Weasley?

_In a way, yes, but not the Weasley you mean_. "Erm, no sir. That's just a bit of spare parchment."

"Surely the famous Harry Potter doesn't need to carry around such an old and ratty bit of parchment? Why don't I just dispose of this for you?" He held the parchment out towards the fire.

"No!" Harry gasped, reaching for the map. He ended up grabbing the teacher's wrist.

Snape gloated. "I thought so." He glanced at Harry's hand, still grasping the black sleeve of his robe, and Harry let go, unable to believe he had compounded his troubles by actually laying hands on a teacher. But the potions master let it pass, eager to move on to what he was about to reveal.

The professor put a mocking index finger to his lips, as if in thought. "Now, how does it go again? Oh, yes – ' I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.'" Harry felt sick with dread as the map magically revealed itself on the parchment Snape held.

Snape was positively good-humored in his triumph. He actually reached out a hand to steady Harry, who was swaying on his feet in dismay. "Come now, Potter, did you think I wouldn't recognize this? I saw your father and his awful friends use it many a time when we were students together. It was I who told the headmaster about it and got it confiscated back then. I knew you must have had some kind of magical aid to get into Hogsmeade without being seen. Oh, sit down before you fall down, boy!"

Harry dropped into the chair as Snape continued in quiet, gleefull voice. "Well, well. Possession of contraband materials, sneaking off school grounds without permission and in defiance of a direct order from Professor McGonagall, and lying to a teacher. And I have no doubt that if I search around the entrance to the passage I'll find the invisibility cloak you used to attack poor Malfoy. Have you anything to say for yourself?"

Despite himself, Harry felt his eyes welling.. _Was he going to be expelled?_ He didn't want to give Snape the satisfaction of seeing him cry, but the thought of being exiled back to his muggle relatives, never allowed to do magic or play Quidditch or see his friends again, was too awful. He blinked the tears away. His father wouldn't have whinged or cried if he had gotten caught breaking the rules. His father would have done what was right. There was nothing for it now but to own up, as far as he could, without implicating Fred and George or Ron.

"I left the cloak is at the foot of the Whomping Willow, Sir," he admitted quietly, his eyes darting up to meet Snape's malevolent black gaze and then skittering back down. "I _did_ use it and the map to go to Hogsmeade, and I threw that mud at Malfoy when I heard him saying bad things about Hagrid. But I didn't steal them! The cloak belonged to my father, and someone gave it to me. I can't tell you where I got the map, but I didn't steal it."

Snape waited to see if the boy would continue. Over his 20 years as a teacher he had found that misbehaving students usually could not abide having his focused, wordless attention on them. They would babble out all their secrets, just to fill the silence. To his surprise, this one managed to hold his tongue.

"As it happens I believe you Potter. And I won't force you to betray which of your little hooligan friends gave you this map. But the fact that you didn't steal these things won't help you. When Dumbledore hears of this he'll have no choice but to expel you, and not a moment too soon as far as I am concerned. I've put up with your arrogance for three years, and that is three years too long. You're disrespectful. You're thoughtless. You don't learn. You're just like your father, thinking that popularity and talent on the Quidditch field mean that you don't have to follow the same rules as everyone else!"

Harry had never before thought about the fact that Snape had known his parents. He hated and feared him, but the potions master had been a boy with his dad, had known him when he was the same age as Harry was now. He couldn't resist asking "_Was_ my Dad a good Quidditch player?"

The wistful question gave Snape pause. He'd hated James Potter for so long and so virulently that it was hard to remember that this slight, pale, tousle-haired child was _not _the confident, handsome troublemaker who had tormented him back when he was a student. It made Snape remember that _he_ was no longer the awkward, friendless mudblood those boys had bullied but a teacher who was feared by the students and respected by the faculty. For a moment he could see through the haze of his unreasoning dislike to the orphaned, scared child in front of him, who, facing the prospect of losing everything he loved, was still desperate for information about the parents he had never known. This child wasn't his enemy. Snape didn't like the brat any better; he still thought Potter was arrogant and disrespectful and too apt to coast on his fame and not work to his potential, but he resolved on the spot not to push to have him ousted from Hogwarts. Not, he thought sourly, that Dumbledore was likely to agree to any such thing, even if Snape did push for it. Potter could blow up the dining hall and Dumbledore would find some way to excuse it.

"Your father was the finest seeker on any house's team in all six years he played at Hogwarts, though from what I have seen of your game, you may be on your way to becoming as good." At Harry's tremulous smile he continued: "Don't let it go to your head, Potter – that was one of your father's problems. There's much more to being a successful wizard than success at Quidditch – wisdom and prudence, for example, both of which your father lacked. As do you."

"How am I ever supposed to learn prudence or wisdom if I'm stuck here in school all the time and not out experiencing the world?" A hint of whine had crept into Harry's voice. _The Hogsmeade ban was so bloody unfair_!

_Ah_, thought Snape, _the return of the cheek_. The kindlier feelings he had been having towards Harry went away, though his newfound plan remained the same. "You're not likely to have that problem for much longer, not after Dumbledore and the Board of Directors hear about this little escapade. As I said, you are likely to be expelled! Honestly, Potter! Every teacher in this school has been going out of their way to keep you safe from Sirius Black, and how do you repay them? By sneaking past the Dementors and gallivanting around in Hogsmeade, when nobody in authority knew you weren't safe in Gryffindor! How would your friends feel if they knew that their complicity in your deceit helped get you killed? How would your precious Dumbledore feel if you were attacked by Black while you were supposedly here under his protection? Did you have any concern for anyone other than yourself?"

Harry was looking at his feet now, his unruly bangs not quite hiding his eyes, where tears were now close to spilling over.

"I didn't think about that," he said softly. _God, Ron and Hermione_. He thought of the disappointed look he'd see in Dumbledore's eyes when the Headmaster was told about this, and he did begin tp cry. He swiped at his eyes in embarrassment, but couldn't stop. "I only wanted to see Hogsmeade and join in the fun. I'm sorry, Sir. Please - Isn't there anything I can do to not be expelled? Hogwarts is the only place that's ever felt like a real home to me. I'll serve all the detention every day! I'll take any punishment you want to give, as long as I can stay!"

Snape steepled his long fingers and regarded Harry over them, pretending to consider. He had already come up with an alternative punishment, and the thought that Harry would be under his thumb for the rest of the school year pleased him very much indeed. "I suppose I don't have to tell the headmaster the details about this. I could tell him you were sneaking about the corridors after hours with an invisibility cloak and illegal map – both of which I will be confiscating- and that you were dishonest and defiant about it when I confronted you. All true, by the way. I'll take 50 points from Gryffindor for that, and you will serve detention with me in the potions lab two evenings a week."

Harry was looking up at him, hope blooming on his face. Snape continued on. "_Every_ week, for the rest of the school year. During those detentions we will work on developing in you the prudence and impulse control you will need to keep yourself safe from Voldemort and those who do his bidding. You will go to your classes and your Quidditch practices and the library and detention, and at all other times you will be confined to your house tower. At the beginning of every detention you will report to me anything at all unusual that you encountered since the last detention, and give me an honest and thorough report of your behavior in that time. If there is anything in those reports I don't like, or anything negative I hear about you from another teacher or student, you'll be punished severely. Thrashed, Potter," he added, at the look of confusion on the boy's face. "Corporal punishment is no longer much in fashion at Hogwarts but our Charter does allow it."

_Corporal punishment_? Harry shivered. _Still, anything would be better than being expelled. Wait – Snape would beat him if he heard anything_ _bad about him from another student? Draco Malfoy would make Harry's life a living hell!_

"You really must learn to better control your expression, Potter. Everything you think flits across your face like the screen of a muggle 'tevilision.' I am aware that Malfoy and some of my other Slytherins would like nothing better than to cause problems for you. I allow him a bit of leeway because of his family's influence, but you may rest assured that I do know when a student is lying and when he is not. I will be fair with your punishments, you have my word."

Harry had not known his face was so transparent. He flushed, thinking of some of the things he had thought about Snape during his interminable Potions lessons.

"Erm – thank you, Sir."

"I want your word, Potter. On your parents' memories. I never had much use for your father, but I will admit that he was a man of his word. And I was at one time proud to call Lily Evans my friend. If you will swear to me by their memories that you will obey me in this, I will not tell the headmaster or the board the full story of your adventures tonight."

"What about Draco? He'll be sure to spread it around."

"Leave Malfoy to me. I can keep him quiet."

Harry felt like he was making a deal with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, but he really had no choice. Snape had him over a barrel, and the wanker knew it. Still, it was decent of him to agree to keep the worst of this from Dumbledore. He fixed the image of his parents firmly in his mind's eye, and spat on his palm. He held his hand out to Snape, who took it gingerly with the air of someone grasping a dead and decaying snake. "All right. I swear by my mother and father that I will obey you and abide by the condtions of my punishment," he said soberly. He felt a slight electric tingle through his palm at the words, and wondered if Snape had magically sealed the oath somehow, or whether he himself had. Maybe it was just imagination, but he felt like there wouldn't be any way of getting around this agreement.

Snape nodded. "Good. Now we just have to attend to tonight's punishment, and you can get back to your studies. Or your Quidditch practice, if that is what you had planned for tomorrow. Though I doubt you'll be very comfortable sitting your broom after tonight. Stand up, take off your robes, and pull your trousers down. Then lean over the desk and grab the far end."

Harry had never really experienced CP of any kind. It wasn't usual in the Muggle school he had gone to, though he had heard tales of the older students being caned from time to time. He had never heard of a student at Hogwarts being punished that way, but in his first year, when he had disrupted the flying class to chase Malfoy and get back Neville's rememberall, he had briegly thought it was going to happen to him. McGonagall had seemed furious when she pulled him out of class and then asked Flitwick if she could borrow Wood, Harry had momentarily thought she meant to cane him.

Dudley had regularly beaten him up when they were children, until Harry got good at dodging him, but the Durselys had been content to bellow at him and threaten him or make him go without supper when they wanted to punish him. Aunt Petunia had a habit of grabbing him by the ear when she was really annoyed, and his uncle had more than once grabbed him bodily to throw him into the closet he had slept in and lock him in. But those things were quick and violent and soon forgotten. This felt like a being a condemned man and walking to the gallows under his own volition. Snape was tall and spare, not thick and brutish-looking like Uncle Vernon, but Harry thought he would be good at inflicting pain. He was scared, but determined to take his punishment bravely. He wouldn't disgrace himself again with tears or begging. He was determined to keep still and not make any noise at all.

Snape had come out from behind the desk and was now standing behind Harry. Harry found it particularly disconcerting to not be able to see the man, to not know exaclty what was coming. In muggle books he had read in his prior life, there were references to all different kinds of thrashing, from childhood spankings over the knee to mutinous sailors who were flogged while tied to the mizzenmast. He had no clear idea what a mizzenmast what, but it sounded very unpleasant. He heard Snape retrieve something from a cupboard and then he came back in sight, holding a rigid strap of thick saddlers leather a little longer than his wand and as wide as Harry's palm. The leather was split into three tails of about six inches at one end, and the other end was narrower, like a handle. He showed it to Harry, who was prostrate on the desk.

"This is called a tawse, or strap. These have been used in this part of Britain for centuries to discipline schoolchildren, and they remain a most effective tool. You will get 13 strokes, one for every year of your age, so that you can remember that you _are _13. Not a child to be ruled by impulse and wants, but certainly not an adult able to do whatever you please, either. We'll begin. You are to count after every stroke."

He stepped behind Harry, tapped his bottom lightly with the strap to aim, and then brought it down hard across the seat of his drawers. Harry's body jerked and he pressed his face into the back of his arm to keep from howling. After a moment the sharp burn backed off a bit, and he remembered that he was supposed to count. "One, Sir!" He was proud that his voice was steady if a little strained.

Snape nodded, though the boy couldn't see it. He was pleased with the way Harry was taking responsibility for his misdeeds and the composure with which he was taking his punishment so far. He continued on with the second stroke, waiting while the boy writhed a bit and then barked out the count, and the third, and the fourth. By the fifth, he had begun of necessity to cover ground he had already hit, The difference in Harry's voice as he counted out the strokes that crossed the sites of previous strokes was marked.

"Five! Sir!" Harry yelped, panting in his effort to keep his voice steady and his body still, and not beg for the mercy that he thought Snape was incapable of showing him.

"Good, Potter." Snape's next few strokes were lighter. He didn't want to break the boy before the end of the punishment.

Snape paused after the ninth stroke. Potter was crying hard now, though he was trying to stifle his sobs. He wanted to reiterate the lessons he wished the boy to take from this session while he was in such a receptive, defenseless state.

"I want you to think about the pain you are feeling now, Potter. This pain is nothing at all compared to what you would be feeling if you had run into Black or another Death-eater while you were strutting around Hogsmeade. A sore bum is nothing compared with the Cruciatus curse."

"Yes, S-Sir. Nine, Sir."

Snape walloped him again.

"And you will show me respect, the respect I deserve as a master of this school."

"Yes, Sir. Ten, Sir. "

Another whack. "You will think about the consequences of your actions before you act."

Harry sobbed "Yes, Sir. Eleven, Sir."

"What will you do if Sirius Black tries to contact you in any way?" Whack!

"I'll tell you, Sir! Twelve!"

"Yes, you'll tell me, or Dumbledore, or Prifessor McGonagall. You will not – " he made the last stroke count, walloping Harry so hard the boy jumped up and scrambled away from him, both hands flying back to shield his bottom- "go off and try to solve it on your own!"

He waited patiently, and finally Harry's sobs decreased enough for him to gasp out "Thirteen, Sir!" semi-intelligibly.

Snape allowed himself a small interior smile at the sight of the famous, coddled "Boy-Who-Lived" snivelling before him with his trousers around his ankles as he tried to rub out the sting from his well-punished arse.

"Dress yourself, Potter. and wash your face. I'll walk you back to Gryffindor Tower."

The walk back to the tower seemed both interminable and too short to Harry. Snape steered him along with a hand on his shoulder, which was a little odd but not unpleasant. When they passed a group of fifth-year Ravenclaws giggling in a clump near the library and Harry tried to hide his reddened face from them, the hand squeezed his shoulder in what might have been reassurance as the professor curtly ordered the girls to get back to their common room. As much as Harry wanted to be rid of Snape's company, he dreaded Ron and Hermione's inevitable questions.

Just as they reached the portait of the Fat Lady, who was snoring gently in her frame, Snape spoke again. "I will expect to see you in my office at the end of the day on Wednesday, Potter. And there was one thing I didn't tell you about that tawse. I put a small spell on it, so that the pain it inflicts cannot be eased by magical methods. You'll be sleeping on your stomach and taking your meals standing for the next couple of days, I expect. You might keep that in mind before you come up with a story to tell about what happened tonight."

So it was with a face as red as his behind that Harry Potter stepped into the common room to face his friends.

.


End file.
